Fighting Systems is Harder (And More Satisfying) Than Fighting Individuals

Most of the time when you're in a campaign you typically have a Big Bad that your efforts are bent toward destroying. Whether it's the lich king at the head of their armies, the mad mage at the center of the dungeon, or the dragon that has declared themselves the tyrant of the region, it feels like there's always a singular threat that needs to be dealt with. If you depose the leader, slay the head of the cult, etc., then all will be well again, mission accomplished.

And sure, there's a certain amount of fun and escapism in that framework. However, it does start to feel contrived after a while. Which is why I wanted to take this week to talk about something several GMs of mine have done, and which I'd highly recommend others consider in their games.

Instead of fighting individuals, have your party oppose a system. Because fighting a system is a lot harder to do.

Ahem.

For those who are curious, yes, my group did recently start playing Hell's Rebels, and that's at least partially why this particular topic is on my mind.

As always, if you want to stay on top of all my releases, make sure you sign up for my weekly newsletter. And if you want to help me keep the wheels turning so I can keep putting out content just like this, consider becoming a Patreon patron!

It Is Astonishingly Hard to Kill an Idea

When it comes to battles in our campaigns, the physical ones are always the easiest ones to win. If there is a local bandit gang preying on the highways, or a cult stealing people in the night, what's the solution? You send in a group of adventurers, and they will break up the problem. Once heads have been knocked, and potential prisoners taken, the threat is over...

Or is it?

Who can say for certain?

While an individual bandit gang might be disrupted or broken up, if those bandits existed because there weren't enough legitimate ways for individuals to earn a living to care for their families, there will be fresh bandits sooner rather than later. If the cult is slain, then they might become martyrs to other believers who didn't put on the robes and lead rites, but who might now feel they must follow in the footsteps of those who went before them.

The root causes that led to the situation in the first place were not fixed. It was not created by any singular individual, and so it cannot be solved by dealing with that singular individual. Which gives our protagonists a very different kind of challenge to face.

And it has been refreshing as hell every time it's come up.

This Isn't System Specific, Either

For those who've read my group's journey through the Mummy's Mask adventure path (and if you haven't, start at the beginning), my GM embraced this idea whole heartedly. Because the Cult of the Forgotten Pharaoh was centered around an individual, that's true, but it was not the Forgotten Pharaoh themselves that gave it power. It was what the cult could do, what it could offer, how it wormed itself into the society of Osirion, and how it got into the minds of the populace through fear, nationalism, greed, and more.

While the party was instrumental in fighting against the cult's ground forces, and while it did remove several of its major players from the board, they did not slay this idea all on their own. They had to recruit allies, reform enemies who realized they'd been duped by the cult, and they had to fight a war of propaganda over the hearts and minds of the public in order to instill bravery and tell the truth about many of the cult's lies.

It was one of the more engaging experiences my table got, especially when one considers how linear adventure paths can often be.

Don't worry, I have negative examples, too.

On the other end of things, though, there are a lot of games that are designed with systems and ideas as the enemy, but where the individuals running the game focus too much on the "Great Man" that's responsible for everything. A majority of my experience with World/Chonicles of Darkness games suffer from this tunnel vision. The corrupt CEO who's responsible for all the pollution in a region in Werewolf: The Apocalypse, for instance, or a vampire who acts as the nexus of all evil in a given territory that can simply be slain to purify everything, and so on, and so forth. When it's far more likely that taking out one vampire means another will take their place, or removing one company means another two will compete for the market (possible even a few entries from Evil Incorporated: 10 Pentex Subsidiaries for those looking for inspiration).

Perhaps the best example I can think of is a Changeling: The Lost game where the storyteller's entire focus was treating a single True Fae (the demigod alien creatures that steal people away to Arcadia) as the BBEG of a particular conflict. Not just in the sense that their attention and malice had fallen on the freehold, but that they were actively involved in an arms race, and they were going to march on the gathered changelings to fight them... for reasons?

While I am all for deadly punch ups with magical wooge and fae nonsense, this entire plot arc was a classic case of making the plot all about an individual rather than a system, an idea, or something more difficult to combat. Because this True Fae didn't have any sort of persuasive rhetoric on their side that turned people against the freehold. They weren't riding some populist wave of anti-changeling sentiment among the hobgoblin community, and the army they had seemed to be made up mostly of nameless, faceless NPCs who had no personality, no driving goals, and no real purpose other than to act as cannon fodder. They couldn't be reasoned with, persuaded to change sides, or even spoken to aside from shouting across a battlefield.

This plot spiraled out of control, eventually getting so messy and frustrating that it culminated in a single, massive, completely unsatisfying battle. A battle that, once it was resolved, left no mark on the game's landscape, achieved nothing, satisfied no one, and was more or less forgotten about within a month. In fact, even trying to recall the details of it right now is a difficult exercise as it just faded into so many other fantastic battles that were waged more because the person running the game felt there should be a Protagonist V. Antagonist throw down rather than because it was a genuine, organic development of the plot and its themes, or that it would achieve anything tense or meaningful.

Also, speaking of Lost, if you haven't checked out my supplements for that game yet, give them a look!

- 100 (Mostly) Harmless Goblin Fruits and Oddments to Find in The Hedge

- 100 Mourning Cant Dialects, Phrases, and Meanings

Win Hearts and Minds to Forge Your Legend

Memorable villains and satisfying victories are tough things to achieve. But this is a topic I've been thinking about long and hard even since I got to work on Archbliss: The City of The Sorcerers (available for Pathfinder and DND 5E) for my Sundara: Dawn of a New Age setting. Because in a setting where there is no alignment, and everyone is left to decide right and wrong for themselves, you won't find evil waiting in black robes and wielding blood-dripping daggers making sacrifices to demon lords. You find it in the indifference of the common people to oppression. You find it in the greed of the powerful. You find it in unfariness, and brutality, and myths that treating other people with violence makes you tough, or strong, or righteous.

And fighting ideas like that takes more than steel and spells.

What's Next on Table Talk?

That's it for this installment of Table Talk! What would you like to see next? Or do you have your own story you'd like to share with folks?

For more of my work, check out my Vocal archives, as well as the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio where I help out from time to time. Or, to check out books like my hard-boiled cat noir novel Marked Territory, its sequel Painted Cats, my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife or my recent short story collection The Rejects, head over to My Amazon Author Page!

To stay on top of all my latest releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter, as well as on Pinterest where I'm building all sorts of boards dedicated to my books, RPG supplements, and greatest hits. Lastly, to help support me and my work, consider Buying Me A Ko-Fi, or heading over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a regular, monthly patron! Even a little donation can have a big impact.

Rise of The Runelords Chapter 30: The Fall of Karzoug

Past dangers untold, and through threats unnumbered, the Companions have found themselves at the foot of Karzoug's stronghold. The Runelord who, in his arrogance, believes he can simply sweep down on the land he abandoned when the Starstone fell and cast the world in darkness thousands of years before. Though hundreds of his servants and cat's paws have fallen, the Runelord of Greed still feels that he can transform the Companions from his staunch enemies, to servants beneath his power... so he opened his doors, and welcomed them inside.

The time for the reckoning was nigh.

For those who need to catch up, the tale is as follows:

- Chapter 1: Blood and Butterflies
- Chapter 2: Murder and Glass
- Chapter 3: The Sin Pit
- Chapter 4: Tussles in The Tangle
- Chapter 5: The Assault on Thistletop
- Chapter 6: Secrets Behind The Curtain
- Chapter 7: Murders At The Mill
- Chapter 8: Halflings and Ghouls
- Chapter 9: Fox in The Hen House
- Chapter 10: Something Rotten in Magnimar
- Chapter 11: The Crumbling Tower
- Chapter 12: Demonbane
- Chapter 13: Trouble at Turtleback Ferry
- Chapter 14: The Taking of Fort Rannick
- Chapter 15: Water Over The Dam
- Chapter 16: Mad Lovers, And Lost Captains
- Chapter 17: The March of The Giants
- Chapter 18: The Taking of Jorgenfist
- Chapter 19: The Secrets Beneath Sandpoint
- Chapter 20: At The Gates of The Runeforge
- Chapter 21: Storming The Halls of Evocation
- Chapter 22: The Bowels of Necromancy's Tomb

- Chapter 23: The End of Runeforge

- Chapter 24: Preparation For The Final Journey 

- Chapter 25: The Hunger in The Mountains 

- Chapter 26: The Gateway to Xin-Shalast

- Chapter 27: The Path of Temptation

- Chapter 28: The Three-Fold Challenge of Xin-Shalast

- Chapter 29: Crossing The Barrier of Greed

- Chapter 30: The Fall of Karzoug

 

 Now, onward, to the final chapter...

The Horrors of Karzoug's Fortress

The servant's entrance needs no decoration.

Once the Companions made their way to the doorway at the foot of the massive fortress atop the mountain, the door opened as if to welcome them in. They climbed square-cut stone stairs, ascending ever higher until they reached a large room with a strange, enchanted circle worked into the floor. Two doors were set into the walls, the wood beautiful but plain... and a man stood before the Companions. A man who, at first glance, appeared to be the Runelord himself... but who quickly revealed that his name was 227, and that he was merely a servant of the great Karzoug. A creature grown from the flesh of his great creator, and whose flaws meant he was a mere menial in the service of the Runelord rather than a functionary of importance.

227 showed the Companions to a waiting chamber that made even the opulence of the palaces of Magnimar seem drab by comparison. Mother of pearl ran along the walls, with priceless pieces of art and a nation's ransom in gems scattered as haphazardly as cushions in a lounging pit. With their hands on the hilts of their weapons, and their eyes looking for ambush in every corner, the Companions seemed almost like a pack of wolves who had stumbled into an oasis... but an oasis where they knew a deadly viper lay in wait for them.

The strange mockery of Kharzoug bid the Companions to please rest. He would inform Karzoug they had come, and once he found a gap in his labors he was certain his master would see them. Zhakar nodded, replying with instinctual courtesy from his youth as 227 scurried out the door. No sooner was he gone, though, than the Companions began to explore their surroundings looking to learn all they could about the strange wizard.

Through a small door, half hidden on the other side of the tower, they found Karzoug's magical laboratory... and all of the horrors it contained.

The Companions found dragon eggs made from raw components, the unborn creatures lacking souls. They found undead woven through with plants, creating bizarre, parasitic organisms unlike anything they'd seen before. They found creatures who had been half-transmuted into devils and demons, and people turned into living stone. Guarding it they found an angel, blinded and hampered, bound by geas and spell to defend Karzoug's laboratory against invaders. The Runelord's spells, however potent, separated under the edge of the Companions' runeforged weapons. With tears in her eyes, the angel who had been held captive for so long was sent home by Ivory, who laid her hands upon the exhausted servant of heaven and sent her on her way.

There was more, however. The Companions discovered that in addition to shaping the plane with his spells, Karzoug had also created his own gatekeepers. The soul of an orphan boy purchased from slavers had become the storm giant king who cast lightning in the clouds. A loyal hound had been grown and changed until it forgot it had ever been anything but a dragon. And someone whose name the Runelord hadn't even thought important enough to record had become the devil who gambled for lives and stakes in the center of the city.

Every vein of corruption that ran through Xin Shalast, every vile deed and every perversion, all of it could be traced to the mind of the creature that called itself the master of this plane.

The Runelord's Attendants

 

Filled with disgust, and a fury that would not wait a moment longer, the Companions stormed through the waiting room, and into an audience chamber. 227 was in there, as they'd expected, but so was a strange woman with a clearly infernal heritage, alongside two massive rune giants. The woman drew the weapon at her side, a shimmering scimitar, and when she spoke her voice sounded hollow; the delivery of a puppet master from somewhere off to one side of the stage.

Now was not the time for debate and discussion, though. The Companions had seen the black heart and rotting guts of Karzoug's enterprises, and there was no longer a need for words.

Now is the time when swords speak true.

For all the Companions' fury, it was the strange fighter possessed by the malignant blade that rushed forward first. The blade dragged along Zhakar's ribs, piercing his steel skin and drawing blood in a dozen places. He returned the attack blow for blow, his blood sizzling where it struck the floor as if molten metal pounded through his veins. Thok rushed to his friend's side, his ranseur raking and slashing, leaving rents in the swordswoman's side.

Slow, but powerful, the giants soon joined the fray. Though they struck Ivory and Thok with crushing blows, they were not enough to turn the tide. One fell beneath Chikara's sparking ax, and the other fell dead at a wave of Mirelinda's hand, ghostly harrow cards whirling round it in a swirl that cut it to ribbons. As the infernal puppet fell, the sword reformed itself, growing legs and eyes like some bizarre insect, and running for the safety of the laboratory. Before it could pass, Ivory whispered a spell, and brushed her fingers against the blade. The air popped, and the weapon vanished into the very edges of the planes where it could do no one any further harm.

As Ivory healed the Companions' wounds, 227 got back to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth where the possessed creature had struck him. He limped ahead, prattling about the rooms they passed, and finally gestured the Companions forward. His master was through there, preparing a meal for them. Zhakar bent, and saw Karzoug through a keyhole, but the door would not budge. There was a strange enchantment on it, and when they finally found a set of keys that fit the lock they discovered that turning the key transported them somewhere they had no expected.

 

That is one big hot chocolate.

 

They were in the kitchen, yes... but they had been shrunk to the size of toys upon the table. Hams reared up like hill tops, teapots stood like fortresses, and across an expanse of pie and rolling loaves of bread stood the towering figure of Karzoug. He welcomed his guests, and asked them once more if they would not agree to join him. When they refused, parts of the table erupted, changing themselves into deadly enemies. An onion became a white dragon, an apple core a bat-winged devil, and a twist of licorice metamorphosed into a massive scorpion with black venom dripping from its claws and tail.

They fared no better than Karzoug's other minions had.

Zhakar took to the air to menace the dragon and the devil alike, keeping them away from the others. Thok climbed to the top of the tea kettle, and drew a bead on the scorpion just as it snapped its pincers around Chikara. Ivory whispered a spell, and when Thok's arrow flew the enchantment the Companions were all under vanished, and his arrow returned to its normal size, slamming through the creature like a giant's balista.

Taken aback, Karzoug fled the field as his creatures were torn to pieces. A shimmering doorway at the far end of the table marked what the Runelord had likely intended as the exit for the Companions once they graciously accepted his offer. With no time to waste, they dressed their wounds on the fly, and flung themselves through the portal.

The Fall of The Runelord

The Companions found themselves in a golden chamber, supported by a dozen pillars. Karzoug sat upon a huge throne, the gems in his head glimmering in the light. He was impressed with them. They were more determined than he'd given them credit for. But having fought so hard just to get where they now stood, did they really feel they could best him? In his own chamber of rulership? Ivory raised her voice, and entreated Karzoug one last time. He could end this... undo all of it. It was within his power to change things for the better. He sneered, and said he would show her what his power could change.

You wish to see my final form?

With a silent whisper of his will, the chamber melted around Karzoug, altering and changing. Cylinders of thick, viscous liquid emerged from the walls, with dark creatures floating inside of them. The floor fell away, except for a central path leading to the seat upon which Karzoug sat. As the Runelord stood, though, the throne melted and parted, and Karzoug himself grew. His robes flowed, and his skin altered, his body becoming a massive form of war that still boasted the smiling, self-assured face of the man who had survived the end of the world when doom had come to Golarion so many centuries before. A relic of another age, convinced that nothing so young in this world could pose a threat to him.

He was about to realize that his hubris would be his undoing.

Unfurling his wings, a light shone from Zhakar. It was bright, but not blinding, and for the first time the voice that issued forth from him sounded like his own. A whisper that entered the Companions' ears, their minds, and their hearts. Light filled them all, and as one they turned their gazes upon the Runelord. Then, driven by the conviction that had been breathed into them, they struck.

Thok was the first to rush the dais, his ranseur cutting a swath through Karzoug's belly. Though the Runelord had laid protections across himself, Thok's aim was true, and his weapon blazed with the fury of both the divine, and the power of the Runeforge. He'd barely finished his swing when Chikara was at his side, her ax biting into the Runelord's mercurial flesh, chewing through his wards as if they were made of paper. Karzoug laughed, and light flashed. On the far wall, one of the cylinders shattered, and a creature fell out of the chamber. It had a body identical to Karzoug, but which bore the wounds the Runelord had taken in his stead. It fell away into space, vanishing into nothingness.

Ivory looked at the rows of cylinders, each of them holding a copy of the Runelord... and she understood why he had been so confident.

Realizing the full scope of how dire the situation was, Ivory shouted for the others to hold nothing back. She unleashed fire at Karzoug, the spell infused with the light granted her by Zhakar. Mirelinda concentrated, and plucked at the threads of fate, bolstering the destiny and fortune of the others. Chikara struck like she'd been possessed, and Thok slashed and stabbed as if his life depended on it... as indeed it very well did. Karzoug flung fire and force at Mirelinda and Ivory, bringing his sword down on those assaulting him.

As more cylinders popped, and the bodies within them vanished, though, he unleashed deeper magics.

In the blink of an eye, Thok and Chikara were locked within a prison of force. The Runelord shimmered with additional protections, and he laughed. The laugh was mocking, but deep within there was something... a single crack of fear.

Zhakar flew into the fray, hammering at the prison with his pick and attempting to parry the huge blade that Karzoug brought down toward his neck. Thok's ranseur sliced through the walls of the prison, and Chikara's ax burst it apart from within, leaving her panting and snarling up at the creature. Ivory attacked the cylinders directly, her spells smashing them open and denying Karzoug the regenerative power of his doppelgangers.

The Runelord had his arm raised, when Zhakar exploded in a burst of light. Thok and Chikara felt their wounds and weariness leave them, and Kharzoug howled, holding a hand across his temporarily blinded eyes. Thok, seizing the advantage, drove his ranseur into the Runelord, ripping at his weakest places. More cylinders burst, leaving Kharzoug alone before the panting, bleeding Companions.

Just as Kharzoug regained his sight, Zhakar leaped into the air. His wings beat a powerful charge, and with a single cry he brought his pick down into the center of Kharzoug's forehead. The runeforged blade shattered the gem set in the wizard's forehead, and drove deep into his brain. Kharzoug hung there for a moment, his body attempting to remake itself; to transform into something else. But there was no denying the inevitable; no way to fight against the darkness snuffing out the last of his life force.

Thus fell Kharzoug, who had thought himself the greatest of the Runelords.

Epilogue

Kharzoug's death reverberated through the realm, and the seat of power he had forged sat empty. The Well of Greed, which had been beneath his throne, needed to be bound to someone. If it was not, then Xin Shalast would tear itself apart.

Each of them felt the temptation. That desire to seize such colossal power. But they also knew that even if they did so with the best of intentions that it could lead to disaster. That it could corrupt them. The Well of Greed needed to be bound to a creature who could withstand its influence. Whose altruism was unassailable, and purer than that of any mortal's.

So they offered it to the realm of heaven, and to the angel who had been bound as a slave to the realm for so many years. It only seemed right that she should be the one to help shape Xin Shalast into something new. Something better.

Huh... didn't see that one coming.

The coming days saw many changes come to Xin Shalast. The release of slaves that had been taken from the material plane, the shattering of bonds of those who'd lived in servitude in the realm, and the scouring of the wicked, the corrupt, and the degenerate. Succor was given to the weak and the wounded, and some of the damage Karzoug had done over the many centuries of his rule began to heal.

It was as the Companions stood at the gates to return whence they'd come, that Zhakar stopped. He had been contemplative for days, as if listening to a force no one else could hear. At the doorstep of a return to the material plane, he clasped Thok's arm, and pulled his friend into a fierce embrace.

"This is where our paths diverge," Zhakar said, the rune on his forehead burning and throbbing. "Would it were otherwise. But the places I must go, I cannot bring you with me. I wish you warm days and bright fires Thok, son of Uugoo."

Zhakar unslung the flametongue, the weapon warm to the touch even wrapped in its sheathe of dragon hide, and offered it to Chikara in both hands. It was a strangely formal gesture.

"Please, name one of your sons for me," Zhakar said. "When you do, put this weapon in his hands to mark the event. Then, when you feel he's earned it, give him the blade to light his way in the world."

He turned to Mirelinda, and reached into his pouch. He pressed a small vial into her hands. It glowed faintly, filled with a thick, viscous fluid. "I much doubt this is a surprise to you, but this is the greatest value I have to give. Should you need to find me, or to call me to you, inscribe the spell with this."

He took a last, long breath, pulling the air into his lungs before he turned to Ivory. "I have waited long enough. There are introductions I need to make... and a promise I need to keep before I can rest."

What's Next on Table Talk?

Now that Rise of The Runelords is complete, what would you like to see next time on Table Talk? Suggestions are always welcome!

For more of my work, check out my Vocal archives, as well as the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio where I help out from time to time. Or, to check out books like my hard-boiled cat noir novel Marked Territory, my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife or my recent short story collection The Rejects, head over to My Amazon Author Page!

To stay on top of all my latest releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter, as well as on Pinterest where I'm building all sorts of boards dedicated to my books, RPG supplements, and greatest hits. Lastly, to help support me and my work, consider Buying Me A Ko-Fi, or heading over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a regular, monthly patron! Even a little donation can have a big impact.

Rise of The Runelords Chapter 29: Crossing The Barrier of Greed

The Companions have fought their way past dangers untold, and found themselves in the lost realm of Xin-Shalast. Threatened and opposed at every turn, they have forced their way to the very doorstep of the Runelord Karzoug. Only one thing stands between him and them, and that is the barrier of greed. Only three servants hold keys, and the Companions must acquire one if they are to pass by to confront the master of transmutation in his own lair.

For those who need to catch up, previous installments are listed below:

- Chapter 1: Blood and Butterflies
- Chapter 2: Murder and Glass
- Chapter 3: The Sin Pit
- Chapter 4: Tussles in The Tangle
- Chapter 5: The Assault on Thistletop
- Chapter 6: Secrets Behind The Curtain
- Chapter 7: Murders At The Mill
- Chapter 8: Halflings and Ghouls
- Chapter 9: Fox in The Hen House
- Chapter 10: Something Rotten in Magnimar
- Chapter 11: The Crumbling Tower
- Chapter 12: Demonbane
- Chapter 13: Trouble at Turtleback Ferry
- Chapter 14: The Taking of Fort Rannick
- Chapter 15: Water Over The Dam
- Chapter 16: Mad Lovers, And Lost Captains
- Chapter 17: The March of The Giants
- Chapter 18: The Taking of Jorgenfist
- Chapter 19: The Secrets Beneath Sandpoint
- Chapter 20: At The Gates of The Runeforge
- Chapter 21: Storming The Halls of Evocation
- Chapter 22: The Bowels of Necromancy's Tomb

- Chapter 23: The End of Runeforge

- Chapter 24: Preparation For The Final Journey 

- Chapter 25: The Hunger in The Mountains 

- Chapter 26: The Gateway to Xin-Shalast

- Chapter 27: The Path of Temptation

- Chapter 28: The Three-Fold Challenge of Xin-Shalast

- Chapter 29: Crossing The Barrier of Greed

- Chapter 30: The Fall of Karzoug

 

Also, for those who don't want to miss any of my updates, please subscribe to my weekly newsletter so that nothing gets lost in the algorithm!

Stealing From a Dragon

After evaluating all of their choices, the Companions took some time to prepare themselves. Bargaining with a devil was not a contest they relished, nor was fighting a storm giant among the clouds. But she who was draped in gold had potential. For there was something they'd noticed in walking through the marketplaces of Xin-Shalast; gold was a worthless currency in that place. Barely worth paving the streets with, the riches that would have purchased kingdoms on the material plane were nothing more than decoration here. Yet the magma dragon's hoard was filled with gold and silver, and she herself encased in it to the point that she cold only fly through magic.

It was not her hoard, however. That treasure room had become her prison, and the "gift" that Karzoug had given her was the lock that kept her there. Enthralled to a magic mirror, she would stay there of her own volition, addicted to gazing upon her gilded reflection.

A more perfect prison has never been constructed.

To test this theory, the Companions dug through the hoard of the white dragon they'd slain who'd guarded the pass. In it they found a large mirror, wrought in gold and silver, carved with artistry and skill. It was a marvel to behold, and would have been a fit gift for any queen. When they presented the mirror to Zargatoth, the massive dragon lifted the mirror and examined it. Then, as if compelled to, she destroyed it, crumpling the beautiful piece of art in her fist. Sadness choked her voice when she spoke, saying she was allowed to have nothing of her own.

Thok slowly nocked an arrow, his shoulders tense as Zhakar approached the huge dragon. She was near to weeping, confused, and disoriented. She hadn't seen her mirror in so long... she knew it was close, but she couldn't find it. That was when Ivory spotted it, lodged in the melted gold on Zargatoth's back. The mirror was far too potent to be harmed by her body's heat, and she'd lost it within her own gilded shackles. Ivory told the dragon where it was, but she couldn't reach it; not with the heavy slabs of muscle that prevented her flexibility.

Speaking softly, and assuring her that they wished to help, Zhakar asked Zargatoth to allow them to extract the mirror from her. Reluctantly, the dragon lay down, digging her claws into the stone.

 A Delicate Procedure

Zargatoth's possessive connection to the mirror, and it's tight hold over her, made removing it a dangerous endeavor. Even if the Companions were careful, one wrong move could lead to bloodshed... bloodshed they'd rather avoid if it were possible.

Mirelinda spoke softly, the soothing sounds flowing from her lips as she cast a spell to calm Zargatoth's fears and furies. Focusing on the jagged rune burned into his forehead, Zhakar erupted in protective flames, flying onto Zargatoth's back. Using the burning claws of his twisted devil's hand, Zhakar peeled away gold and silver, reducing the metal to slag as he flung it away from him. Ivory floated nearby, keeping an eye on Zargatoth and using precise beams of fire to help cut the mirror out of the dragon's golden shackles. Though becalmed by magic, the dragon's anxiety raised her body's temperature, melting the gold and silver faster, the metal running into puddles on the floor. The mirror was singing a siren's song, trying to persuade Zhakar to look into its surface, to see what he desired there, but its song fell on deaf ears as the memories of what he saw in the gaps between worlds returned to him. Wrenching the mirror free, he set it down on the stone before Zargatoth, backing away from her.

The sight of the mirror immediately smote the dragon between her eyes. She stepped out of the pool of molten metal, shaking herself off. While the carapace that had weighed her down for so long was gone, her mind was as shackled as it had ever been. Withdrawing to a safe distance, the Companions spoke in low whispers; even though Zargatoth was completely lost in the enthrallment of her addiction.

They needed that mirror to cross the barrier, and Ivory could tell from the wefts of the magic around its enchantment that once bound to a new owner Zargatoth would be free of its compulsions. But the new owner would need to break that curse as well, or over time the mirror would enchant and degrade them until they were slaves to the reflection. She could create the spell to break it, given time, but they would need to steal the mirror.

As Ivory gathered the supplies, and penned the scrolls that would be necessary, escorted by Chikara to ensure none thought to try to steal Ivory, the others watched Zargatoth. She barely moved a muscle, lying there enraptured by what the mirror showed her. For hours she stayed there, and would likely have stayed there indefinitely had the Companions not taken action.

With the simple application of a few spells, Chikara vanished from sight, running like the wind. Hefting the huge mirror, she ran, bolting into the city. Confused, the spell broken, Zargatoth cast around for the cause of her mirror's absence. The rest of the Companions fled as well, their speed enhanced by both adrenaline, and magic. Unable to fly, and with no idea where they were going, Zargatoth quickly fell behind.

When they were safely away, or as safe as they could be under the circumstances, they found the mirror had shrunk itself, and changed its form. No longer a hand mirror for a dragon, it was now something sized for any of the Companions... should they wish to take it. After a brief discussion of the risks, and what could happen, Mirelinda held her hand out to the mirror. It all but leaped into her grasp, the metal warm, comforting, and familiar as she gazed into it, and bonded with it. Across the city Zargatoth awoke, truly awoke, for the first time in ages. The hunger in her was gone, the need absent for the first time she could remember in many years.

Mirelinda gazed at her reflection, lips pursed as she examined herself. She fixed her hair, and adjusted her necklace, nodding. When Zhakar cleared his throat she jumped, as if lost in thought, but put the mirror away in her satchel with only a little reluctance.

The final challenge was still ahead.

Return Next Time For The Finale!

One of the longest campaigns I've played in a while, and the finale is just around the corner! Stay tuned, and I'll see you next time on Table Talk!

For more of my work, check out my Vocal archives, as well as the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio where I help out from time to time. Or, to check out books like my hard-boiled cat noir novel Marked Territory, my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife or my recent short story collection The Rejects, head over to My Amazon Author Page!

To stay on top of all my latest releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter, as well as on Pinterest where I'm building all sorts of boards dedicated to my books, RPG supplements, and greatest hits. Lastly, to help support me and my work, consider Buying Me A Ko-Fi, or heading over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a regular, monthly patron! Even a little donation can have a big impact.

Rise of The Runelords Chapter 23: The End of Runeforge

The Companions, seeking the tools that could destroy the Runelords should they make good on their promise to rise and reconquer their old empire, found themselves in the depths of the planar laboratory known as the Runeforge. With danger around every turn, and with everyone they meet trying to kill them, the Companions go on the attack. There's no need to waste words when steel speaks truer.

For those who need to catch up:

- Chapter 1: Blood and Butterflies
- Chapter 2: Murder and Glass
- Chapter 3: The Sin Pit
- Chapter 4: Tussles in The Tangle
- Chapter 5: The Assault on Thistletop
- Chapter 6: Secrets Behind The Curtain
- Chapter 7: Murders At The Mill
- Chapter 8: Halflings and Ghouls
- Chapter 9: Fox in The Hen House
- Chapter 10: Something Rotten in Magnimar
- Chapter 11: The Crumbling Tower
- Chapter 12: Demonbane
- Chapter 13: Trouble at Turtleback Ferry
- Chapter 14: The Taking of Fort Rannick
- Chapter 15: Water Over The Dam
- Chapter 16: Mad Lovers, And Lost Captains
- Chapter 17: The March of The Giants
- Chapter 18: The Taking of Jorgenfist
- Chapter 19: The Secrets Beneath Sandpoint
- Chapter 20: At The Gates of The Runeforge
- Chapter 21: Storming The Halls of Evocation
- Chapter 22: The Bowels of Necromancy's Tomb

- Chapter 23: The End of Runeforge

- Chapter 24: Preparation For The Final Journey 

- Chapter 25: The Hunger in The Mountains 

- Chapter 26: The Gateway to Xin-Shalast

- Chapter 27: The Path of Temptation

- Chapter 28: The Three-Fold Challenge of Xin-Shalast

- Chapter 29: Crossing The Barrier of Greed

- Chapter 30: The Fall of Karzoug

 And now, onward, into the remainder of the Runeforge!

No Answers

Filled with a righteous fury from the battle with the lich, Zhakar led the companions back to the central chamber of the Runeforge. With several halls still to choose, they needed to push forward. Abjuration was seen as they next choice, the Companions hoping that whatever wizards they found waiting in there would protect themselves instead of lashing out.

Probably not, but it's nice to hope.

Instead of hostile wizards, what the Companions found in the halls of abjuration was... nothing. Nothing but walls covered in shadows that were once men and women, and a central spike in the floor emanating pulses of energy that sapped magic from the air. A great battle had happened there, and it appeared those wizards who specialized in defense had not been able to hold their own against the onslaught.

Unable to find any answers about how to make runeforged weapons, or where they came from, the Companions turned toward the other halls, hoping they would be more instructive.

No Parley

Enchantment was the next hallway the Companions chose, and they found a landscape dedicated to the extremes of lust. Cages sized for humans, the smell of bright incense, and a gaudy red tent like a silk brothel just offering invitation. Inside awaited the mistress of the halls, a succubus with a cruelly barbed whip in her hand, surrounded by cloying pink smoke, and several of her servants.

And what curiosities are these pretty things?

The succubus unleashed her magic, and it crashed against the rocks of Zhakar's mind, changing nothing. His eyes blazing, he let forth a battle cry that echoed through the tent, that same, bright fire filling his allies' eyes as he strode forth. Each of them filled with holy light, it was a collection of seconds before the demons were cut down. One succubus fell under Chikara's greatax, the steel slicing its flesh as if its infernal protections were no more than paper. The other broke beneath Bostwick's fists, bones shattering as if they were made of glass. The wizard, panicked, lashed out with her whip. Zhakar knocked it aside, and cut her down with a flurry of ripping, tearing cuts, his pick shattering her ribs before puncturing her skull, leaving her infernal beauty rent and ruined on the floor.

Illusion held no answers, either. Mirrors that summoned cursed dopplegangers of the Companions until they're shattered created a dangerous obstacle, and a small cadre of identical wizards put up some resistance, but it was all for naught. Behind a secret panel they found the desiccated corpse of the illusionist who once ruled the halls, along with hundreds of exact replicas of his body. His journal, the scribblings of a madman, provided a timeline as to how he'd slowly lost his mind in the isolation of the Runeforge, filling in some of the gaps of the battles between the apprentices.

It wasn't until the apprentice of conjuration was slain, his mind destroyed by a shouted word from Mirelinda before he was dispatched by Thok, that the Companions found something of use. The huge wizard's grimoire had notes on the research of the others, and on his theory regarding runeforged weapons. The central font could be used to mix the components together, different combinations from different schools leading to weapons more effective against certain schools of magic. Specifically the opposition schools. All they had to do was collect the final ingredients.

The halls of transmutation held huge constructs that fared poorly against Thok's ranseur, and Chikara's raw ferocity. The master of the halls was a transmuter whose arrogance was his undoing, unleashing fire and magic against Zhakar, only to find his own mind twisted away, and his steel body hammered into the dirt.

Kharzoug Awaits

Come... I await you in Zin Shalast.

 No sooner had the Companions arranged their ingredients, and Zordlan dipped his rapier in the pool, than the colossal statue of the Runelord Kharzoug came to life. The stony visage of the ancient transmuter stared down at those who had challenged him, frowning.

"You," it said, voice booming from somewhere far away. "You dare to challenge me? Come then, and seek me in Zin Shalast, if you dare!"

His threat delivered, the huge statue stepped down from its pillar, swinging its fists. Already honed by days of fighting through the Runeforge, the Companions scattered, each coming at it from a different angle. The massive statue flailed and thrashed, smashing blows against Zhakar's shield, kicking Chikara hard enough to crack her ribs, but it could not hold against the sheer, enraged fury at the pride and dismissive tone of the Runelord. The statue cracked, and crumbled, smashed to pieces that fell hard enough to shake the Runeforge itself.

With the tools in-hand, the Companions could see the final stretch of their quest. All that was left was to beard Kharzoug in his den, and to seek him in Zin Shalast itself.

Next Time on Table Talk!

With their runeforged weapons finally in-hand, the Companions have only one challenge left. But will they be able to defeat Kharzoug? Or will something else stop them from even reaching Zin Shalast? Find out on the next installment of Table Talk!

For more of my work, check out my Vocal archives, as well as the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio where I help out from time to time. Or, to check out books like my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife, head over to My Amazon Author Page!

To stay on top of all my latest releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter, as well as on Pinterest where I'm building all sorts of boards dedicated to my books, RPG supplements, and greatest hits. Lastly, to help support me and my work, consider Buying Me A Ko-Fi, or heading over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a regular, monthly patron! Even a little donation can have a big impact.

Rise of The Runelords Chapter 20: At The Gates of The Runeforge

With the buried poison beneath Sandpoint put back to rest, the Companions realized the clock is ticking faster than they'd hoped. One of the Runelords, at least, appeared hellbent on waking from his slumbers to unleash his magic upon the world. To stop a being of such power, they'll need the proper tools... but a runeforged weapon can only be found in one place. So they made their preparations, and set off to arm themselves for one, last battle.

To catch up on how we got here, check out:

- Chapter 1: Blood and Butterflies
- Chapter 2: Murder and Glass
- Chapter 3: The Sin Pit
- Chapter 4: Tussles in The Tangle
- Chapter 5: The Assault on Thistletop
- Chapter 6: Secrets Behind The Curtain
- Chapter 7: Murders At The Mill
- Chapter 8: Halflings and Ghouls
- Chapter 9: Fox in The Hen House
- Chapter 10: Something Rotten in Magnimar
- Chapter 11: The Crumbling Tower
- Chapter 12: Demonbane
- Chapter 13: Trouble at Turtleback Ferry
- Chapter 14: The Taking of Fort Rannick
- Chapter 15: Water Over The Dam
- Chapter 16: Mad Lovers, And Lost Captains
- Chapter 17: The March of The Giants
- Chapter 18: The Taking of Jorgenfist
- Chapter 19: The Secrets Beneath Sandpoint
- Chapter 20: At The Gates of The Runeforge
- Chapter 21: Storming The Halls of Evocation
- Chapter 22: The Bowels of Necromancy's Tomb

- Chapter 23: The End of Runeforge

- Chapter 24: Preparation For The Final Journey 

- Chapter 25: The Hunger in The Mountains 

- Chapter 26: The Gateway to Xin-Shalast

- Chapter 27: The Path of Temptation

- Chapter 28: The Three-Fold Challenge of Xin-Shalast

- Chapter 29: Crossing The Barrier of Greed

- Chapter 30: The Fall of Karzoug

And after all that, the Companions headed north again... into the crags of the forgotten mountains, looking for a place buried by time.

The Gateway To The Runeforge

Reading and re-reading the notes left by the Scribbler, the Companions begin to piece together the bizarre history and purpose of the place they seek. Like the Runelords themselves, the Runeforge appeared to have been created with something of a noble goal, when it was first founded. A place for arcane scholars to come and study, it was a place of magic and learning... and only those with the proper spells could enter it.

Fortunately, we brought some arcane experts with us.

The journey was arduous, and cold. The Companions didn't speak much, each focused on what lay ahead, and for some what roiled within them. Mirelinda read her cards every day, the fortunes only growing worse the closer they came. Danger, the cards said... but what form it would take they didn't so much as hint at.

When they finally found the gate, it seemed almost underwhelming. Ancient standing stones atop a plateau, each marked with runes and left filled with magic. Keys to the gateway that, if opened at the proper time, would show the way to the Runeforge... or so the made writings of the trapped Scribbler had said. Mirelinda and Zordlan examined them, prodding the stones with cantrips until they felt the eldritch mechanisms unlock. Rumbles in the stone as tumblers turned. One, then another, then another. It seemed that Runeforge wouldn't be as hard to get into as they'd feared... until a shadow fell over them, and a scream of fury split the air.

On Winter Wings

From the sky, frost hissing from its gaping maw, came a huge, white dragon. Fully grown and enraged, it swooped down on what it seemed sure was an easy meal. Thok's eyes went wide, and he dashed for cover to get away from its curving, raptor talons and piercing gaze. Bostwick skipped aside, spreading out so it couldn't get everyone. Zordlan swore, and Mirelinda ducked behind a standing stone. Even Chikara retreated a few steps, raising her bow.

Zhakar shrugged his cloak off his shoulders, and unfurled his wings. When the thing came down, he rose to meet it.

Well shit, they don't usually do THAT!

The dragon's breath raked the circle as the Companions dove aside, trying to return fire with spell and bow. Zhakar shook off the frost, and blasted a blinding beam into the dragon's eyes. It roared, eyes white and scaled from the burning light. It shook its head, listening for what it could no longer see. Shocking arrows thumped into its hide, and it roared. As Mirelinda prepared another spell, it dove, snatching her up and flying her high into the sky. It tossed her, and she spread her arms as the air slowed her descent. Confused, and angered, the dragon circled to within reach of Zhakar's pick once more. Instead of an easy meal, it found the steel digging straight through its scales, spilling its freezing blood onto the plateau below.

Crippled and wounded, angry and unable to conceive of how close to death it was, it was only a matter of time till the dragon came back to earth. Turning to meet the charge from above, it didn't expect the rest of the Companions to descend upon it. Chikara's ax bit deep, and Zordlan's blade punctured its underbelly. Hellfire bloomed, and it screamed as the black flames burned away what life remained in it.

Rimed, But Triumphant

Chilled and shaken, but very much alive, the Companions rested, healed, and then sought the dragon's lair to be certain it didn't have a mate. It didn't, but it had a hoard. Filled with treasures stolen over hundreds of years, ranging from potent magical weapons like a Flametongue, to enchanted armors and wands, the creature had been sitting on the very weapons that would have been ideal for slaying it. But it had no mate that they could see. Sorting the wheat from the hoard, the Companions began the ritual opening once more. They ascended the stairs to the top of the path at speed, thanks to Zhakar's wings, and despite the crumbling drops, found the gateway into the what they assumed to be the Runeforge. Guarded by two constructs, the gateway yawned before them... leading into dangers untold.

What was in the realm beyond?

Next Time on Table Talk!

Will the Companions survive the horrors of the Runeforge? Will they find the weapons they seek, or is it all just a deadly trap? Find out on the next installment of Table Talk!

For more of my work, check out my Vocal archives, as well as the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio where I help out from time to time. Or, to check out books like my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife, head over to My Amazon Author Page!

To stay on top of all my latest releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter, as well as on Pinterest where I'm building all sorts of boards dedicated to my books, RPG supplements, and greatest hits. Lastly, to help support me and my work, consider Buying Me A Ko-Fi, or heading over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a regular, monthly patron! Even a little donation can have a big impact.

Rise of The Runelords Chapter 18: The Taking of Jorgenfist

While the invaders were repelled from Sandpoint, it was only the first, probing assault to come out of the north. The giants are massing, and once they've formed a full spear, they will crush the lands of the small folk beneath them... unless someone can break that spear before it's ready to fall. The Companions are willing to take that burden, mounting up and heading into the wilds of the north, seeking a citadel that appears on no maps, and that is often thought of as a legend to those who weren't born with a giant's blood in their veins.

For those who need to catch up:

- Chapter 1: Blood and Butterflies
- Chapter 2: Murder and Glass
- Chapter 3: The Sin Pit
- Chapter 4: Tussles in The Tangle
- Chapter 5: The Assault on Thistletop
- Chapter 6: Secrets Behind The Curtain
- Chapter 7: Murders At The Mill
- Chapter 8: Halflings and Ghouls
- Chapter 9: Fox in The Hen House
- Chapter 10: Something Rotten in Magnimar
- Chapter 11: The Crumbling Tower
- Chapter 12: Demonbane
- Chapter 13: Trouble at Turtleback Ferry
- Chapter 14: The Taking of Fort Rannick
- Chapter 15: Water Over The Dam
- Chapter 16: Mad Lovers, And Lost Captains
- Chapter 17: The March of The Giants
- Chapter 18: The Taking of Jorgenfist
- Chapter 19: The Secrets Beneath Sandpoint
- Chapter 20: At The Gates of The Runeforge
- Chapter 21: Storming The Halls of Evocation
- Chapter 22: The Bowels of Necromancy's Tomb

- Chapter 23: The End of Runeforge

- Chapter 24: Preparation For The Final Journey 

- Chapter 25: The Hunger in The Mountains 

- Chapter 26: The Gateway to Xin-Shalast

- Chapter 27: The Path of Temptation

- Chapter 28: The Three-Fold Challenge of Xin-Shalast

- Chapter 29: Crossing The Barrier of Greed

- Chapter 30: The Fall of Karzoug

And now, onward into the spire of the giants!

The Massing Horde

Finding the road to Jorgunfist was not easy. The Companions traveled through treacherous mountain passes and the biting teeth of the freezing wind, searching for a sight of what might be called civilization. They climbed the great stairs to the Storvald plateau, and that was where they were met with the first outriders. Stone giants who sought to crush the invaders, but who quickly found black-fletched arrows buried in their throats, and the ground opening up at their feet to swallow them whole.

That's a pretty neat trick... how many times can you do that?

When the Companions finally reached Jorgenfist, they saw the colossal fortress commanded a huge swath of the plain... but even the giant keep was not large enough to house the forces that had gathered around it. A battalion of stone giants had staked their claim to the west, and a sprawl of hill giants were camped to the north. The east was a chaos of ogres, several hundred of them, all sitting and stewing as they prepared to put their raw muscle and brute cunning to the test in the self-proclaimed king Mokmurian's upcoming war.

It didn't look good... the Companions would have to go through those forces, or sneak around them, in order to breach the walls, and have a chance at slaying Mokmurian himself. A chance they took just after sunset.

While the Companions destroyed the rune-branded ogres at the edge of the camp, slaying their Taiga giant commander, they didn't manage to evade notice entirely. Barely halfway to the walls of Jorgenfist, and a stone giant scout patrol spotted them. With the rest of the forces being roused, discretion became the better part of valor as they fled to the hills.

(Incidentally, this is why If You're A DM, You Should Get Your Hands On A Chase Deck.)

Though the scouts were frightening foes, able to cover huge amounts of ground quickly, the Companions managed to slip away in the darkness, secreting themselves in a mostly hidden cave. Patrols of giants, and hunting squads of ogres combed the area, but as dawn came they gave up the chase.

What If We Go Under?

Unwilling to try their luck at a secondary assault, especially with the giants riled up and looking for outsiders, Mirelinda shuffled her cards to ask for answers from the weave of the world. She drew and placed, frowning at the messages, and trying to make sense of them. Then she looked up.

Water from the dew had formed a small stream, and it flowed along the ground at the base of the cave wall. There were two pockmark holes in the stone. A spider crawled from one, peering out into the day to examine the new residents of the cavern.

It's a sign! Also, Thok, kill that thing please?

Moving with great care, avoiding the clumsy patrols of ogres, the Companions came to the cliff wall where the great plateau fell away to the east. As Mirelinda's vision had shown her, a river ran alongside the wall... and what looked like two caverns could be seen below the fortress.

Perhaps they were a way in, and perhaps not. The only way to be sure was to look.

Zordlan reached into his bag of tricks, and brought out the wand of spiderclimb that had served the Companions so well at Fort Rannick. Swarming over the side, they made their way down, counting the minutes in their heads. When they reached the cave mouth, Zhakar entered first, followed by Thok and Chikara.

In the darkness, something moved.

A huge, multi-segmented form scuttled out of the darkness, hissing and rasping. Cold as death, the massive, undead spider lashed at them with fangs and pincers. While Chikara hacked at it, her ax sparking against the empty exoskeleton, Zhakar's hand blazed as he blasted open a hole in the creature. The thing let loose with a hollow shriek, half its form crumpled and smashed away by the purity of the beam. Before it could limp away into the shadows, Thok sent a pair of blessed arrows into it, driving out whatever ghost had animated the creature.

It was far from the last threat to be found in the darkness beneath the fortress. The companions came across a furious kobold, as well as a scattering of redcaps, but it was when they found a huge, stone giant general that they knew they were truly inside the boundary of Jorgenfist. Falling on the giant before he could raise the alarm, the Companions tried to take stock of where they were, and how they could find Mokmurian before their presence was discovered.

When the curtain twitched aside, every hand reached for a weapon.

An Unexpected Ally

The giantess who stepped into the room was different than the others the Companions had seen. She carried no weapon, and was not garbed for war. Her simple shift was almost religious in its simplicity, and she whispered rather than shouting. She had known they would come, and their purpose, telling them that if they would see Mokmurian dead, then she could lead them to him.

Trusting to fate, the Companions scooped up the spoils they'd found in the erstwhile general's chamber, and followed the giantess deeper into the caverns.

A calculated risk is still a roll of the die.

The Companions' new ally was a giantess of faith, and one who told them that it was only the sheer potency of Mokmurian's magic that kept many of the giants there. Without him, this raid on the southlands would fall apart. Her people would return to their mostly peaceful way of life, and the ogres would disband, unable to function in such a large group without a greater force holding the reins. She paused at a shrine, and left a small offering. Mokmurian had killed her husband for opposing him,she said, and she would see him thrown down, the great war machine he was building broken.

The Companions were all too happy to oblige.

The shaman pointed them down a pathway, warning them that it was guarded by fell forces. A warning the Companions took to heart, but which did them small good as the creatures guarding Mokmurian tried to block their path. A demon that belched molten iron emerged from the wall, its belly burning hot. It chose Zhakar to unleash its fury on, but the enchanted pick he'd taken from the dead general's quarters, along with the strange spirits that flowed through him, quickly put an end to the thing. A glowing, howling wraith emerged from where it had been bound in a door, swiping and sucking at their life essences. Chikara gave it the blade of her ax, and Thok pierced its heart with a flurry of arrows. A pack of Tindalos hounds thought they had the Companions surrounded, but as Bostwick's fists splintered teeth, and Zordlan's holy rapier slid between their ribs, the creatures learned the invaders had not come to play games.

The Fall of The Great Wizard Mokmurian

Beyond the final doors loomed a strange mist... and the scent of danger. The Companions knew Mokmurian awaited within, and that someone of his supposed powers would be prepared for them. Taking a deep breath, they charged once more into the fray.

Blow the door, I'm going in!

The mist was no mere smoke screen. A thick, enchanted fog, it sapped at the Companions' strength, and tried to slacken their limbs. Chikara forced her way through, followed quickly by Zhakar. Mokmurian, a towering stone giant dressed in a patchwork wizard's robe, was waiting for them. With a huge club he wielded like a staff, he wasted no time on pleasantries. He rose into the air, snarling words of power and unleashing his magic upon the Companions.

Chikara took the brunt of the assault, howling with fury as she tried to resist the spells he wove around her. Zhakar sent forth another blinding ray, blinding the wizard and sending him reeling. Thok coughed and spat, trying to put an end to the wizard before he could do any further harm. Mokmurian recited the words of an ancient spell, the ashes dropping away from his face as new sight returned to his gaze. Enraged, her strength siphoned off by the fog, Mirelinda pointed at Mokmurian, and spoke an incantation none of the others had heard before. A harsh, scolding command that reverberated like a thunderclap. The wizard stared at her, his mouth slowly falling open. The brutal, wicked gleam of intelligence faded from his eyes, leaving behind nothing but the slow churning of a brute mind.

His wits enfeebled, Mokmurian had nothing but his strength and staff to rely on. Potent weapons, to be sure, but no match for the tools the Companions had brought with them. In moments the hulking form of the would-be warlord fell from the air, settling to the ground in a puff of dust. His dreams of conquest and death stilled as surely as his heart.

But What Happened Next?

With the wizard slain, the Companions appeared to have stopped the giants' march south... but why had they gone in the first place? What did they need? And who lurked in the shadows, whispering into Mokmurian's ear?

Find out on the next installment of Table Talk!

For more of my work, check out my Vocal and Gamers archives, as well as the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio where I help out from time to time. Or, to check out books like my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife, head over to My Amazon Author Page!

To stay on top of all my latest releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter, as well as on Pinterest where I'm building all sorts of boards dedicated to my books, RPG supplements, and greatest hits. Lastly, to help support me and my work, consider Buying Me A Ko-Fi, or heading over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a regular, monthly patron! Even a little donation can have a big impact.